


137 - Glasgow

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “a fic based on Glasgow? Like how they meet and all of the sudden there falling in drunk in love? You may have something similar but I’m thinking like she wraps him around her fingers and the boys all talk about how he’s whipped and like when she can’t be with him, he’s just wants her to himself”





	137 - Glasgow

You'd met Van at your favourite bar and it was cliché as all fuck. He arrived late, and everyone in your newly combined social group was already drunk. He walked to the bar and perched on a stool. Jess, the bartender, walked to him and took his order. You watched as he hesitated, not getting up. He stayed on the stool and started to sip the beer.

"Maybe… instead of looking, staring at his back, you could just go talk to him?" you friend whispered in your ear. She was right; you were staring and chewing your lip and being super fucking weird. Nodding, you stood up and walked over and took the stool next to his.

"Hey, Y/N. The usual?" Jess asked.

"Um. I think maybe we need a couple shots, to catch this one up," you said. She smirked and nodded. Van looked over at you. "No fun being the only sober one," 

"You ain't that drunk," he replied smiling and looking you up and down.

"I am… holding myself together." He laughed, his pointy teeth on display. Jess lined up two shots each, and put a cider next to you too. You clinked your teeny tiny glass against Van's, and downed it. He scrunched his face up and it was so human and beautiful. The second shot went down easier.

You had fully intended on getting up off the bar stool and going back to the group, and Van probably had too. But, neither of you moved all night. You even held in the need to pee for as long as physically possible. Scared that he'd be sitting with the others when you got back, you tried to not bounce on the spot. When Van excused himself to the bathroom, you breathed out and dashed away too.

Your head was resting on your crossed arms, which were sitting on the bar top. You could feel your skin sticking to the tacky surface. You were watching Van rap out the verses of Clint Eastwood. You'd both automatically made the "oh oh oh oh" sound at the start, and when you beamed at each other, it was love. As you both screamed out about your futures coming on, Jess appeared in front of you. The music stopped.

"Um, guys…" she started. You smiled at her and Van looked around.

"Oh," he said. You followed his movement. The bar was empty and the mood lighting was off. The main lights had flooded the room and allowed you to see that chairs were stacked, floors were mopped, and the doors were locked. Where did your friends go? Had they said goodbye? Maybe you just forgot? What was the time?

"Yeah. Oh. We closed an hour ago, but the little duet show was fun," Jess said. You thought Clint Eastwood was the first song you sung to, but evidently not. "But I need to wipe this bar down and go home. So… fuck off, yeah?" she grinned.

Out on the street Van held you by the waist as you walked down the road. He was warm and kind and safe.

"Uh, where we going babe?" he asked. You shrugged, pouted and looked up at him. He moved the smoke from his mouth, breathed out, and looked at you carefully. "God, you're fucking beautiful,"

"Shhhhhhh," you giggled.

"Nah. No shh," he said. He stopped walking and stood in front of you. You wobbled on the spot, or maybe just your vision did, or maybe it was Van that wobbled. "You are like… all glowy and you smell good and I like your laugh,"

"Just the booze talkin' and this cityyyyyyyyyy," you said, stretching your words and calling out into the night. Glasgow spun around you. Van watched you twirl, and was ready to catch you when you fell.

"Maybe we take you home, babe?" Van asked, laughing as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You nodded into his chest. You were standing on the corner of Holland and Sauchiehall and had no idea which way was home. Picking a random direction, you pointed.

…

It should have been a whirlwind easy peasy romance. Instead, you freaked out. Van was too fucking good. Besides the obvious physical attributes that were enough to make you weak at the knees whenever he was around, he was genuinely all that you loved about humanity. It was like God sat around and said, 'yeah, the world is gonna need this kid, this loyal and sweet and thankful and strange little creature, he's gonna grow up and change lives and break hearts and save souls.' You freaked out because he was just too fucking good for you, so you avoided him.

All that avoiding Van achieved was making him want you more. And, it made him think you were playing a game. Like you were trying to wrap him around your finger, but it wasn't like that. Well, at first it wasn't like that.

You were drunk at the bar and wanted home. You called Van, and his sleepy voice switched between from confused to excited very quickly. "Y/N?"

"Hiiiiiiii, Van,"

"You're drunk calling me?" he laughed. "You alright, babe?"

"Come get me? I want pizza and bed please,"

"Pizza and bed please," he repeated. You wanted to see his face. "Yeah. You on Sauchiehall?"

"Mmmhmmm,"

"Yeah. Course you are. Sit tight."

He was there in twenty minutes, and you fought his hands when he tried to put your seat belt on. He liked you too much to be annoyed at your drunk childish behaviour. He shook his head and wouldn’t start the car, though.

"I will fuckin' sit here all night,"

"Maybe I wanna sit here all night," you replied and poked his chest. He grinned.

"Real fucking cold out, though. If ya love my company so much, you can come back to mine, but put your fuckin' seat belt on."

…

It went on like that. You dodged Van's invitations for dates and hangs, but would call him when you needed him. You'd let him buy you drinks if you were all out with friends, and when his arm wrapped around your waist or his fingers danced across your arm when nobody was watching, you'd let that happen too.

"So… you and Van, yeah?" Jess asked when you bounced up to the bar.

"Me and Van what?"

"You're a thing, yeah?"

"What? No. We're friends," you told her. She looked genuinely confused, and stopped shining the glass in her hand. She put it down and looked at you carefully.

"He picks you up literally every time you are here. When you're both here, you're inseparable. When you're not around, he keeps looking at his phone and I presume he's checkin' it for you. Just fucking date the boy already. He's a walking angel,"

"Yeah… that's the problem," you mumbled, embarrassed.

Back with the group you sat across from Van, instead of in the empty place next to him. You didn't look over at him, but knew his pretty face would be twisted in confusion. He probably thought he did something wrong.

His baby blues, though… Within thirty minutes you were back at his side.

"Vannnnnnnn," you whispered in his ear, letting your lips linger close to his skin.

"Mmmmmm," he replied, pulling you onto his lap. You put your arms around his neck, and his went around your waist. You liked being so close to him.

"Let's go on an adventure,"

"An adventure? Does that involve leaving the warm bar and going out there," he asked, flicking his head to the door.

Yes. The adventure would obviously involve the outside world. And, yes. Van would happily follow you on any adventure.

…

"I never do this," Van said for the thousandth time.

The city was peppered with external stairwells with broken locks. You made Van climb one, and you followed. It was dangerous, considering the level of alcohol in your bodies, but it was fun. Sitting on the roof of the building, all the streetlights and cars were sparkly and made the world feel so fucking alive. You felt alive. Trying to climb onto the ledge, Van pulled you back onto the roof.

"No, no, no, babe, come on," he said. He was chuckling, but there was panic in his voice.

"Just wanna see," you explained.

"Yeah but you can see fine from here and there's less… you know… chance of dying."

You sat side by side on an air-conditioning unit. The wind picked up and flipped your hair around your face wildly.

"I love this city," you whispered. Nodding, Van took his jacket off and put it around you.

"I do too now," he replied. "I think I also love you."

You looked at him, eyes wide. "You're just drunk," you said, even though you knew he probably did love you. He didn't react at first, then his head tilted slightly. He studied your face, looking for love in you too. It was there, and he saw it, but let you keep pretending.

…

Your sister had come to stay and she brought her boyfriend, who brought his friend. His friend that you were obligated to show the city to, and to pretend to like. Someone let it slip that you spent most of your time at the bar on Sauchiehall, and suddenly you were there with them. You introduced them to Jess, who knew you well enough to read how uncomfortable you were.

"More business for me," she laughed when you were buying second round.

"This is my safe place, Jess," you complained. She shrugged.

Later in the week you were there again, alone. You sat on a bar stool helping Jess shine glasses when the friend walked in. Clay, his name was, and you waited to watch your sister and her boyfriend follow. They didn't. He was alone, too. He took the seat next to you, Van's seat. He bought you a drink, and you kept throwing Jess S.O.S. looks for help. 

"I got you," she said as soon as Clay went to the bathroom.

"What do you mean?"

What she meant is that she called Van very quickly after Clay showed up. And, as you asked the question Van walked in and sat next to you.

"You're sober," he said in place of a hello.

"I am,"

"But you need me?" he asked, confused, looking at Jess. She'd obviously not told him anything.

"Um…"

You shrugged and made small talk. You introduced Clay when he came back out, and you could see the fear on Van's face before you explained who he was.

"So this is where you've been every night," Van said. Clay smirked, like he was proud to have taken up so much of your time. "Might be good to spend a night without him. Sorry, you, mate. Mind if I steal her for a bit?"

It took a second for Clay to work out Van was being a fuck. Jess' reaction was immediate; she snorted, withheld laughter, and walked off into the stock room out back. Nobody said anything for a few beats, and the tension was building.

"You know the way to get home?" you asked Clay.

"Got here, didn't I?" he snapped.

"Right. I'll see you later then." You stood up and let Van take your hand.

"Don't wait up, mate," Van called, not looking back.

Out on the street, in the fading light of the day, you looked at Van and shook your head.

"My sister is going to rip me apart for that,"

"What? You didn't do anything…" he grinned and pulled you closer, "Just want you all to myself, see."

Yeah, you did see. You could see it in the way Van held your hand tight. In the way he'd rescue you at all hours of the day and night. In his watching eyes and licked lips and honest words. It was in the jokes your friends made about him being 'whipped,' but you'd objected to the term and to the meaning.

"Well… you got me," you replied.

"Do I though? 'Cause you seem dead set on not givin' me a chance. This was kinda my last shot, you know?"

"You're gonna give up on me? You're not really the giving up type,"

"So… I should keep telling you that we're gonna get married?" Van asked, smirking but serious. "Gonna buy a house together and I'll carry you through the door all proper. Gonna have millions of babies. Gonna-"

"Alright. Alright. I get it. You like me. Stop," you interrupted, trying to get out of his arms. He held on tight and started to plant kisses on whatever part of you he could. Your hair. Your neck. Your arm. Your hands. "Van!" you squealed.

"So…?" he said, letting you go. You straightened your dress and looked at him.

"So?" you repeated.

"You're mine?"

"Well… I am mine. Nobody owns me. But… I guess you can take me on a date." 

Van's face lit up, and you felt privileged to see the pointy teeth again. The beautiful, human, freckled happy Van. All to yourself.


End file.
